Ninety percent of me is happy for you. You earned your license, your car, and your dad's trust. Your purple car makes me laugh and I'm glad to provide Arizona Diamondback fuzzy dice for pop.
Five percent of me is battling worry. Will you be safe? Will you get in an accident? Will you hurt yourself or someone else after making an inexperienced driver's mistake? But I can talk myself down pretty easily from these worries, placing my trust in you, your maturity, and God's perfect will.
What about the remaining 5%? I'm grieving. I'm out of a job, no more chauffeuring you. It was while driving we talked sports radio, To Kill a Mockingbird, politics, and everything. On some days the ride to and from school proved to be our only time alone, just you and me. So, I'm feeling selfish and sorry for myself.
Because time with you is precious.
Love,
Mom
